


That Moment When

by lonelybetters



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Bittersweet, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 20:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17495240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelybetters/pseuds/lonelybetters
Summary: Lulled into an illusory but gratifying sort of stillness, Yata Misaki was on the brink of unconsciousness when the sound of his despised first name dragged him back to the tangible world, and the acute pain in his limbs again flooded his senses, racking his weakened body.Come save him, before that moment when he realizes it was love.





	That Moment When

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reupload of a fic I posted a couple years ago, albeit under a different name - I'd think it a waste to just let it hang around in my junk folder, essentially forgotten, so here it is again.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always really appreciated - hope you enjoy.

“Misaki.”

In a forgotten alley tucked away in the chaos of the hushed city, the calm voice chipped away at the tense silence engulfing the two boys sprawled motionless on the cold pavement, separated by only a few feet though each passing second seemed to widen the distance. 

Lulled into an illusory but gratifying sort of stillness, Yata Misaki was on the brink of unconsciousness when the sound of his despised first name dragged him back to the tangible world, and the acute pain in his limbs again flooded his senses, racking his weakened body. 

Too tired to open his eyes, Yata stirred in the darkness enveloping his sentience, where only the gentle pitter-pattering of the rain on nearby rooftops and the toiling breaths of Fushimi Saruhiko seeped in.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing really. Just checking to see if you’re still alive.” 

Yata let out a bark of laughter, and drops of blood arched into the air and sank into the stiff fabric of his torn t-shirt while the rest were roughly wiped off the upturned lips. 

“Fuck yeah. What about you?”

After a considerable lapse of silence, Fushimi spoke again, his tone grave.

“I can’t move.”

Yata had similarly tried to stand up awhile ago, but failed to even make it onto his knees.

“Me too. I guess we’ll just have to wait until someone notices we’re gone and comes looking for us.”

“Which might be never.”

“Shut up.”

With a deepening scowl accentuated by the shadows cast upon his brooding features, Yata slowly rolled onto his back, feeling only too intently the looming sense of helplessness that permeated through the entirety of the dark and cramped alleyway. 

“Saru, you knew, didn’t you?”

“About what?”

“Geez, I don’t know - the blackmail, the ambush, the bomb… ”

“Do you really think that, if I were to really have known beforehand, I would allow myself to get screwed over to this pathetic extent?”

“How the hell should I know what goes on in the minds of you Sceptre 4 idiots?”

Having coughed out the hollow comeback, Yata felt himself relax a little as the tension within his body diffused into the ground, having recognized the familiar mocking undertones of Fushimi’s remarks and felt a faint sense of relief that the other boy seemed neither liable nor near-death - at least as far as the latter was willing to disclose. 

Shifting his body so as to face his temporary ally, Yata felt a slight tug at the corner of his lips as he looked out from half-lidded eyes into the other’s piercing blue ones, unexpectedly lit with a striking intensity foreign to the characteristically indifferent face. 

For awhile, neither said a word. 

As the rain gradually became heavier and the faint sound of sirens mixed in with those of the alley, Yata’s thoughts wandered back to the days when being next to Fushimi - just like this - had been a natural occurrence, without need for reflection. Sitting back-to-back, leaning against each other, the two of them could exist in silence for hours, feeling the heat radiating from their bodies warm each other’s hearts and keep the flames of their spirits alight. 

It was funny how, even when watching Fushimi’s retreating back with the image of burning flesh carved into his memory and the anger and hurt threatening to consume him whole, Yata hadn't truly understood that they could never go back to how they were before until the day he saw his former friend donning the hateful blue uniform and pushing forward alone without looking back. 

Fushimi had betrayed Homra, and - as if killing two birds with one stone - had broken away from Yata, without a single word of explanation. When he had slouched back to their hideout late at night after their falling-out, no trace of the other having ever breathed the same air remained, and if anything provoked even the faintest reminder, Yata set it to flames himself. 

Forging ahead with his own life, he was determined not to be left behind or to spare another thought on any bastards who were heartless enough to discard the things that had given him everything without leaving any of it behind. Moving into a small but homely apartment that was his and his alone, living each day to the fullest as vanguard of Homra, the only times Yata had stopped to take a breath were after the deaths of Totsuka Tatara and Mikoto Suoh. 

He had obeyed the will of time and yet, at the end of it all, he had still found himself thrust into the world of unbearable loss and loneliness. And while Yata was stubborn and would hold on until his last breath, sometimes he wondered what would have happened if things had been different. If he had just got there a little quicker, if he had been just a little stronger, if he had just - 

“Hey Saru.”

Letting his hesitant words die out with the wind, Yata felt a strange sense of peace as he heard the soft hmm of encouragement come from beside him.  
Waiting out the tense pause, Yata gathered up his last bit of energy and asked the one question that he never had had the chance to ask before it was too late. 

“Why did you leave?" 

As the other remained silent, he tried again. 

“Why did you - ”

“I heard you, stupid.”

From out of the corner of his eye, Yata watched as Fushimi reached out a hand towards the clouds and stared at the cracks between his fingers coloured with the gray palette of the darkening sky. 

He could almost sense the characteristic mocking retort being drawn out from the other’s thin lips and carried via a passing breeze to provoke Yata with a noncommittal response…

Yet it never came. 

Yata waited a little longer before shifting his head to look closer at Fushimi and braced himself for whatever disdain awaited the overdue question, but nothing could have prepared him for the thin shimmering trail streaking down the already wet cheek and falling into the cracks of the pavement. Even as Fushimi quickly turned his head so as to escape Yata’s openmouthed gaze, it was too late. 

“Wha - what happened? Oh god, are you okay?”

Flooded with a growing sense of unease, Yata watched the other boy, slow to fathom the sudden display of emotion - was Fushimi in that much pain or had he been hit too hard on the head? - and suddenly all too aware of the veil of vulnerability shrouding the latter’s proud figure, now defenceless, tainted with the rust of blood, and stained with streaks of mud. No weapons, no mocking words, no trace of the guise behind which he filtered himself and which Yata had so utterly despised. For the first time in too long, they were alone together, lying side by side in the silence that only felt comfortable when shared solely by the two of them. 

For the first time in too long, Yata felt that Fushimi was his once more. 

...But why?

Why did he still feel so anxious and so lost? 

“Even after all these years…you haven’t figured anything out.”

“Huh?"

“Amazing, really. Your stupidity knows no bounds.” 

Yata opened his mouth to ask Fushimi what the fuck he was talking about now, but was halted by the shaking shoulders of the other. From timid snickering to outright guffawing, Fushimi was laughing so hard that loud coughs soon had their turn in drowning out the silence and racking his thin frame. His irritation suddenly overcome by a wave of panic, Yata peered out at his companion, timidly reaching his hand towards Fushimi and wondering what it was the two of them were trying to accomplish. However, the latter’s fragile body had been thrown too far away by the blast for Yata to successfully bridge the gap, and his feeble attempt at pulling his former friend back into his embrace only made it half-way. 

His body wincing from the unwelcome exertion of energy, Yata tiredly prepared to sink back into the darkness, only to be jerked back to the outside world moments later when he felt the lightest of touches graze the back of his hand. Slowly turning his own palm upwards, Yata looked on silently as Fushimi’s slender fingers weakly intertwined with his. Their hands, now clasped together, lay bare to the heavy rain pouring down from the open sky, and when Yata gazed in answer to the pleading loneliness of those two strikingly intense blue eyes, he felt the one emotion that took years to pummel into nothingness surge back up to the brim of his stupid heart in a matter of seconds.

Absentmindedly tracing his finger along Fushimi’s wrist and feeling for the faint pulse that used to match his own, Yata felt his heart wrench itself out of his chest and leap to reunite with its counterpart. 

_...Fuck._

Squeezing his eyes shut, Yata feebly rolled onto his back, and tilted his face so the other’s searching eyes couldn’t read his expression. Blocking out all fissures in his exterior from which the lingering regret and lost time of the outside world could seep in, he willed someone to hurry up and come find him. 

Anyone. 

Come save him, before that moment when he realizes it was love.


End file.
